Generate you own Victorian Sex Cry. Mine is, gosh, this is so embarrassing!. Mine is... gee, I can't type this while all of your are looking! Look away and maybe I can finish this. OK. Mine is... hey! Quite peeking! OK. Mine is

What joy inexpressible!My joy is lost in a sea of greater bliss than I have ever known!

2005-12-26

This holiday, I was surrounded by people I love, the things that they gave me and more than enough food. So much. So very much.

The absence of my Dad ran like a shot of red in a black and white movie. Everything went on without him and yet everything was colored by missing him.

I went home with my Christmas booty. I drove through the dark night avoiding five deer crossing the road, listening to the sounds of a great horned owl as I unpacked the car and the very quietness of the house as I trundled in. Of course, it didn't stay quiet.

Life goes on. I have writing to do, massive correspondence to catch up on and many shorts to read for CrimeSpree. Music accompanies me. And, connected by glimmering silken threads, all the people I love all over the world.

Thank you.

Thank you to everyone who's got my back although I go about blissfully unaware. Thank you to everyone who forgives my cave dweller habits. Thank you, everyone.

I've asked someone to be a part of the anthology I'm putting together called "Fuck Noir." He is one of the best writers I've read, yet he is grossly un-read and painfully brilliant. One of those that inspires private moments of, "Damn, I wish I wrote like that!"

My Dad has been very ill and the effect of this has been to turn me into more of a cave dweller than usual. I dread answering the phone. I haven't been keeping up with my email; even forgot to pay the damn ISP bill.

Moody. I've been very moody.

We've all had loss touch our lives in some way. If there is anything positive to take away from it, it is to never take for granted the people you still have in your life. Freely forgive, cherish and admire your people. Hug them, soothe them, have silences with them and never forget them.

This season, however you celebrate it, is a good one to reach out, reach out and touch someone.

Tigger, Thomas and Max are a crime-fighting trio of tabbies not to be taken lightly by foolhardy burglars in the Hawkshaw area. But that's exactly what Gary Sutcliffe did. And he's paying the price.

After breaking into a house threw a forced window, Sutcliffe managed to make off with only a handbag for all his trouble when the owner surprised him with her return.

Tossing a scarf and gloves out the window as he sped away in his Ford Fiesta (snort!), Sutcliffe gave the police a merry chase until he rolled his car. Under the bare bulb at the police station, he denied all.

But the owner of house, handbad, glove and scarf was under a bare bulb of her own. The bare bulb that indicates a brilliant idea!!!!!!

The window Sutcliffe made crawled through was a favorite entry way of Tigger, Thomas and Max, her three tabbies. "Check the culprit for fur!" the owner cried.

And, they did.

Sutcliffe tested positive for all three.

Said DC Mick Balfe, “The forensic evidence uncovered in this case provided an inextricable link between Sutcliffe and the scene of the crime.

"The presence of Max, Tigger and Thomas in the house provided us with evidence that we could really get our claws into.

“You could say that this cat burglar has just lost one of his nine lives!’’

"I walked out on that dark beach thinking I was going to hook up with the girl of my dreams," the rattled bachelor later admitted. "And there she was, wearing white shorts and a pink tank top, just like she'd said she would.

"But when I got close, she turned around -- and we both got the shock of our lives. I mean, I didn't know what to say. All I could think was, 'Oh my God! it's Mama!' "

2005-12-16

Last week, a family from Sarasota, Florida found the perfect Christmas tree and carted it home. Busy, they kept the tree around for five days before they finally decided to decorate it. As they adorned the branches with lights and baubles, they made a strange discovery.

Within their tree branches was, no - not a partridge in a pear tree. A screech owl.

Pelican Man's Bird Sanctuary sent out a team to retrieve the little guy. As they plucked him from the pine, a strange odor met the nostrils of the officers. Wacky terbacky*.

"Curiously enough, the owl's feathers smelled very, very potently like marijuana," said Jeff Dering, of the sanctuary. "They examined the owl, looked at its eyes, ... and the owl was, in the vernacular, stoned."

Blood tests confirmed the owl's drug state.

After giving "Cheech" the screech owl a full check up, it was determined that being up in smoke would not cause any permanent damage. Cheech also inadvertantly gave the staff at the sanctuary an early gift. The attention he garnered has brought in enough money ($250,000) to keep the sanctuary buzzing in the years to come.

Above,twenty-one-year old Jack Passion, from Santa Cruz, California, with a massive, thick, red beard only two years and three months old. Jack's beard earned him third place and a bronze statue for Team America in one of the most competitive categories, full beard natural, at the WBMC 2005 in Berlin.

But Death is something we all spend out lives noticing, contemplating and experiencing on some level. Fear of Death is may be the strength behind many religions. Worship our way and transcend Death is the welcome mat that takes many across the threshold.

The ancient Egyptians (at least the upper class) welcomed Death as it led them to a greater existence as gods.

And this leads me to death masks. Extensive subject.

How is a death mask made?

First, a mould is made by covering the face with a thin layer of plaster of Paris (the eyebrows and lashes are usually smeared with oil first to keep them from sticking to the plaster). Once the first layer has begun to dry, a second, thicker layer of plaster is added. When the outer layer has dried the whole mould is removed from the face.

The hollow mould is used to make the mask itself. Plaster, wax and metal are often used.

"In 5-billion years the Sun will expand & engulf our orbit as the charred ember that was once Earth vaporizes. Have a nice day."

About Me

Referred to as everything from Satanspawn to "that weird chick" to friend of all elves, Jennifer Jordan is writing and reading her way to Nirvana one word at a time. She edited the anthologies EXPLETIVE DELETED and UNCAGE ME! and is the short story/special features editor for Crimespree Magazine.
She is currently hard at work breathing.